unlikely."
' 'I will remind you of that one day, lass. Have no doubt about that."
It was obvious she made a great effort to ignore both him and his comment, and he was unable to read what she was thinking in the smooth contours of her lovely face.
He said nothing more as he filled the large kettle with water and pushed the hook so the pot was centered over the hottest part of the flames. While the water heated, he set about making a simple breakfast of ham and oatmeal.
The food was ready before the water was hot enough, so he placed a bowl of oatmeal on the table, with a side dish of ham next to it. He made her a cup of tea. "Do you take honey in your tea?"
"Yes... merci, but I truly would like to bathe before I eat."
"You should eat first so you don't lose what little strength you have when you step into that warm water."
He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. He led her to the table, for it was obvious she was still a bit light-headed, and he wondered at the wisdom of letting her in a tub of warm water, but he doubted he would have much luck with talking her out of it.
Once she was seated, he took the seat opposite her and ate his oatmeal. After a few minutes, he sat back to observe her while he drank his tea. She was a dainty eater, and well mannered. She knew the proper way to use a utensil, and he noticed how she never put her elbows on the table. If she was a maid, he decided it had to be in the service of a woman with a title—someone with breeding and a thorough knowledge of social graces.
"How is your memory this morning?" he asked.
"My m-memory?"
He did not miss the shocked, uncomfortable expression that moved rapidly across her lovely features, to be replaced by one of outward calm when she caught the meaning of his question. "Oh, you mean my lack of memory?"
"Your inability to retail past experiences would be one way of putting it. The Greeks have a word, amnestia, which means forgetfulness."
"Which comes from amnestos, which means not remembered."
"Interesting that you can recall that," he said. "You are in possession of an unusually good knowledge of languages for a maid, wouldn't you say?"
"Perhaps, but who knows? I might have been a lady's companion, or a governess. I really do not have a firm recollection of that part of my life. As I told you, it is only a feeling I have that I was in some type of service to a lady...one of high regard, I think."
A sardonic smile came and went quickly, and he doubted she had even noticed, but she surprised him.
"The name for your smile, monsieur, has come via my own language—the French word sardonique, which ironically comes from the Greek word sardanios, which means..."
"Scornful, which originally meant Sardinian."
"Ah, yes, like the Sardinian plant, which if eaten makes terrible contortions on the face. Is that what you had for breakfast, milord?"
She had a fine mind, and he enjoyed playing these word games with her. She was his equal in that. He wondered in what other areas she would be a good match for him. "I would cast my lot with governess," he said. '"Tis more than obvious that you are no common maid."
"My oatmeal grows cold," she said, and began to eat.
He cleared away his dishes and dipped a finger into the kettle to check the temperature. He yanked it back quickly. "Your water is hot. While you finish eating, I will fill the tub."
He knew he made an inordinate amount of noise, banging the large copper tub about, but this was not the sort of thing the Earl of Mon-leigh usually did. However, by the time she finished eating he had the tub filled, with a drying cloth and a slice of soap sitting nearby. "Need you any help?" he asked, almost leering at her and feeling his teasing her like this was becoming a regular habit and something, he had to admit, he rather enjoyed.
Something akin to amusement danced in her eyes. "Thank you, no. I have been bathing myself for some time."
"Perhaps I should wait here, to make certain you